


let you lick the lollipop

by countthestars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/pseuds/countthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry poses nude for Zayn's drawing class. Porn thinly disguised as plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let you lick the lollipop

**Author's Note:**

> because this trope hasn't been done before. additional tags: blow jobs, hand jobs, bit of come play, harry being sort of predatory (but nothing dubcon)
> 
> title from 'candy shop' by 50 cent

This is definitely the easiest bet Harry’s ever won.

Standing in the front of the brightly lit art studio, Harry toys with the belt on his robe as the professor drones on with dull instructions. The students’ faces range from rapt attention to bored indifference, pencils tapping impatiently on sketchpads. Quite a few sets of eyes flick towards Harry and he meets each gaze with a knowing smile. A couple brave souls hold eye contact for a minute or two before looking away, a tell-tale flush heating their cheeks.

One boy near the front keeps glancing at him, quickly dropping his gaze whenever Harry tries to catch his eye. There’s dark stubble covering his jaw and Harry is sure it’s covering a blush. He grins.

The professor finishes up with his little lecture and gestures for Harry to disrobe. “Remember, everyone. Three poses. Twenty minutes each. Focus on proportions; don’t get caught up in all the _little_ details.”

There’re a few snickers around the room at that and Harry lets the robe fall from his shoulders, landing at his feet with a soft whisper of noise. The laughter cuts off abruptly. Harry has to swallow a smirk as he figures out his first pose, jutting his hip out. Someone swallows audibly. Little details, indeed.

The scratching sound of pencil on paper fills the room in short order as the class settles down to business. It’s sort of a weird feeling, standing naked in front of a room of strangers, but Harry’s always felt comfortable in his own skin. You could safely say he’s not shy.

Really, being nude is a nonissue. It’s the boredom that’s a problem, Harry realizes about ten minutes into the class. Having twenty-odd sets of eyes on him at once sends a little thrill through him, but there’s not exactly going to be a payoff at the end of all this. His muscles feel stiff, holding the same pose for so long, and the class seems to have gotten over their initial discomfort, focused now on their sketchbooks.

Well, that’s not completely true. The boy near the front is biting his lip so hard the skin’s gone white, and he’s staring down at his paper hard enough to burn a hole straight through. Harry cranes his neck a little but he can’t make out more than a smear of lead, the boy’s pencil gliding smoothly over the page.

He looks up and accidentally catches Harry’s eye. Harry’s sure it’s an accident, because the boy’s eyes widen, huge and dark, like a deer caught in headlights. Harry tries to give him an encouraging smile, but the boy licks his lips nervously, eyes darting away.

Harry is equal parts charmed and amused. He doesn’t normally go for the shy types, but the kid is fucking gorgeous. The sweep of his dark lashes against his cheekbones is obscene. Harry wonders how they’d look clumped with tears as the boy gags around his cock.

Ah, that’s maybe not the best train of thought to explore while posing nude. The students are bound to notice _that_ little detail. Harry watches the clock until the second hand has made at least three circuits and the professor calls for him to switch poses.

Harry takes the opportunity to stretch, biting his lip to catch a smile as half the class watches with undisguised interest. The other half is a bit less obvious, but no less attentive. The only one who doesn’t seem inclined to enjoy the show is the boy in front. He’s looking down at something in his lap, probably his phone, and paying absolutely no attention to Harry.

It’s going to be like that, is it? Harry shifts until he’s directly facing the boy, adopting a pose that shows off his biceps. He’s been hitting the gym quite a bit recently and it’s hardly a crime to take pride in his hard work. A girl with green hair winks at him and Harry beams back. He’s always been a people pleaser.

The boy near the front flips to a fresh page in his sketchbook, pencil gripped tightly in his fingers. He seems determined to avoid eye contact, staring mostly at Harry’s knees whenever he looks up from his drawing. If he was hoping Harry would lose interest, he’s made a terrible mistake.

Harry waits until the boy raises his eyes again, then deliberately lets his hips twitch a little, like he’s having trouble holding the pose. On instinct, the boy’s eyes track the movement and Harry can definitely see a tinge of red in his cheeks as the boy gets an eyeful. He presses his pencil so hard into the pad of paper that the tip breaks, swearing so softly Harry probably imagines the sound.

He drops his gaze and doesn’t look up the rest of the class, even when Harry shifts away for his final pose.

-

The boy darts out the door the moment the professor dismisses everyone. Harry’s got more experience taking _off_ his clothes in a hurry, but he dresses in record time, cursing as his skinny jeans get caught around his ankles.

He doesn’t bother with more than two shirt buttons before he’s racing out the door, but he’s too late. The boy with the eyelashes is nowhere to be seen.

-

“Niall. You know people.”

“Can’t argue wi’ that,” Niall says agreeably, wiping a wet towel over the sticky bar.

“A lot of people,” Harry adds hopefully.

That earns him a small laugh. “Are ya lookin’ for someone in particular, then? Ya know they’ve got this great invention for that, maybe yeh’ve heard of it. ‘S called Facebook.”

Harry frowns. Niall’s been spending too much time with Louis. Who still owes him money for that bet, the bastard.

“Are you going to mock me or help me?” he whinges, banging his empty pint glass against the bar.

Niall shakes his head, but smiles fondly at Harry as he takes the empty glass from him. “Ya haven’t even _asked_ me for help yet. That’s generally the first step.”

“’M tryin’ to find a boy.”

Refilling his pint with practiced ease, Niall hums thoughtfully. “A specific boy?”

Harry nods. “I don’t know his name. He’s an art student, dark hair, ridiculous eyelashes, face carved by a Greek god.”

Niall pats Harry’s cheek as he hands over the pint. “Styles, you’re hopeless. No wonder ya can’t find ‘im, if that’s what yeh’ve got ‘t go off of.”

Overcome with defeat (and maybe too much beer), Harry drops his head onto his folded arms and sighs loudly. He can hear Niall’s cackling laughter, which is a very rude response to Harry’s plight. He needs new friends.

“Oi, quit moping, ya lump. ‘S a shit description, but I know exactly who you’re talkin’ about.”

Harry sits up so abruptly he almost falls off his stool. “You do?”

With a sly grin, Niall nods. “His name’s Zayn. And because I’m such a good mate, I’ll do ya one better. Ya want his number?”

Harry grins. He loves his friends.

-

The phone call is predictably awkward, but Harry’s nothing if not persistent. Zayn sounds a bit bewildered as he agrees that Harry can come over, ostensibly under the pretext of ‘modeling’ for him.

“Only this time with a bit more clothing, yeah?” Zayn laughs nervously over the phone, his accent thick enough to choke.

“’Course, mate. Want you to feel comfortable.”

Harry’s an expert at making people feel comfortable. He’s been told his mouth is made for it, really.

-

Zayn leads Harry to a sunny room lined with windows when he arrives at his flat. It’s a bit messy; art supplies stacked around the space and piled haphazardly on the work table shoved along one wall.

“The lighting in here’s good for drawing,” Zayn explains as Harry yanks his shirt over his head.

“Oh,” Zayn says. “You’re – right, then. We’ll just… get started right away.”

Harry reaches for his zipper, tugging his jeans down as Zayn searches through a pile of sketchbooks, pulling one out and flipping to a blank page.

“How do you want me?” Harry asks when he’s down to his pants, grinning recklessly at Zayn. Licking his lips – must be a nervous tic of his – Zayn gestures vaguely. “Just, like, can you stand there, I guess?”

Harry raises a brow, but stands there obediently, hands clasped behind his back. Zayn settles onto a stool, pencil in hand and lip caught between his teeth as he starts sketching.

Zayn asks Harry to move around in various positions, but not one of them is on his knees. The silence stretches on between them and Harry shifts restlessly. “Sorry,” he says finally, and Zayn looks up, meeting his eyes. “Can you play some music, or something?”

“Shit, yeah, of course,” Zayn says hurriedly, scrambling off his stool. “Sorry, I should’ve – d’ya want something to drink, or anything?” He looks a little panicked and Harry has to turn his aborted laugh into a cough.

“No, no, ‘m fine. Just quiet in here, that’s all.” He tries for a warm smile and some of the tension in Zayn’s shoulders seems to melt away.

“Sorry,” Zayn says again, digging around until he unearths an iPod from the mess. The silence between them is a little easier this time with soft music filling up the space. Zayn’s queued up a playlist with a lot of R&B music Harry’s never heard before, but then the indie music Niall’s always ragging on him for listening to probably wouldn’t be as conducive. Banjos aren’t exactly sexy.

Zayn perches on his stool again and much as Harry likes the intensity of his gaze, he’d been hoping for something a bit more tangible today.

“’M glad you let me come over,” he says conversationally. “It didn’t look like you got much done in class, the other day.”

Zayn carefully avoids meeting Harry’s eyes, instead addressing his ear. “Yeah, I…” he licks his lips again. “I guess I didn’t realize there’d be so much nudity in a figure drawing class? I’m not, I mean--” he cuts himself off, running his hand through his hair and laughing nervously.

“’S all right,” Harry says kindly. “Being naked doesn’t really bother me. Obviously.”

Zayn’s laugh sounds more relaxed this time. “Obviously,” he echoes, and his lips turn up in a small smile as he finally meets Harry’s gaze. It’s a bit like a punch to the gut.

Harry clears his throat. “What are you working on, then?” he asks, nodding towards the pile of sketches Zayn’s completed.

“Oh, it’s – I’m designing a graphic novel? It’s my senior project.” He shrugs, looking a little embarrassed. “I probably should’ve asked before, like. ‘M thinking about using you as a reference, for one of the characters. If… if that’s all right, I mean.” He looks a lot embarrassed now.

“Really?” Harry asks. “Can I see?”

Zayn nods jerkily and Harry walks over, flipping carefully through the stack of drawings. None of the sketches are very detailed, just simple lines and hurried pencil strokes, but the figures are still undeniably _Harry_. He traces his finger slowly over the paper, careful to avoid smearing the lead.

“These are amazing, Zayn.”

“Yeah, well.” Zayn smiles, pleased.

“Seriously. This is like, the second coolest thing I’ve ever gotten naked for.”

Zayn’s surprised laugh sounds like it’s been punched out of him. “What’s the first, then?” he asks with amusement.

Harry smiles slowly, tracing a fingertip across Zayn’s chest. “Could show you, if ya like.”

Swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs painfully, Zayn is silent for a few excruciatingly long seconds.

“Yeah,” he finally croaks. “You can – can show me.”

Harry can’t help his grin this time. He tugs at the hem of Zayn’s shirt. “Off,” he orders, more of a hindrance than a help as Zayn pulls the fabric over his head. Zayn throws it onto the floor as Harry presses him against the wall, running his hands over Zayn’s skinny chest.

“Gonna kiss you, now,” he murmurs against Zayn’s lips a second before he presses his mouth against them.

“Mppf,” Zayn says. It’s a yes, probably, because he groans in appreciation when Harry slides his tongue slickly past his lips. Harry kisses Zayn filthily, cataloging the noises he makes as Harry licks into his mouth. He chokes off a whimpering sound when Harry nips at his lower lip and pulls back, panting.

“Can I – wanna--” Harry gasps out, clumsy fingers reaching for Zayn’s flies. Zayn bats his hand away, making quick work of the zipper, and Harry helps him tug his jeans and boxers down. Harry loses interest when they get caught around Zayn’s knees, focusing instead on Zayn’s hard prick. He wraps his fingers around it, smothering his smile in Zayn’s collarbone as he whines at the contact.

Harry jacks him slowly with a loose fist, glancing around the room for something they can use as lube. There’s nothing within arm’s reach, so he presses his palm against Zayn’s open mouth.

“Lick,” he instructs when Zayn opens his eyes in surprise. He feels Zayn’s tongue a moment later, hot and slick against the skin of his palm. It’s easier this time, Harry’s hand sliding smoothly over Zayn’s prick. Harry swallows all the bitten off noises Zayn makes, nipping Zayn’s lip again as he starts to fuck his hips into the circle of Harry’s fingers.

“’M gonna,” Zayn gasps out, arching his back against the wall and coming over Harry’s fist a moment later. He slumps back, chest heaving, trousers still caught around his knees. Harry starts to wipe his hand off on Zayn’s jeans, but rethinks that decision when he sees Zayn’s kiss-swollen lips.

He brings his hand to Zayn’s mouth. “Lick,” he says again, voice rough. Zayn doesn’t open his eyes, just darts his tongue out, tentative swipes at Harry’s fingers. It’s the hottest thing Harry’s ever seen and he’s so hard it _hurts_. He palms himself with his other hand as Zayn licks him clean.

Zayn’s eyes open a crack when Harry pulls his hand away. He’s too fucked out to be embarrassed, watching Harry with dark eyes, pupils blown wide. “Lemme… lemme blow you,” he stutters, pushing weakly at Harry’s chest until he takes a step back, back flush with the edge of the table. He spreads his legs as Zayn stumbles forward, dropping to his knees gracefully despite still being tangled up in his trousers.

Zayn’s clever fingers make quick work of Harry’s zipper and Harry bites his knuckles to smother a groan when the cool air hits his prick. Zayn licks his lips, but he doesn’t look nervous. He glances up at Harry through dark lashes, the pink tip of his tongue barely brushing the head of his dick.

“Please, Zayn,” Harry begs. Zayn grips the base of his prick with one hand, the other wrapped around his hip, and swallows Harry down in one smooth slide, lips stretched wide. Harry swears, unable to help the way his hips jerk forward, and Zayn backs off before Harry can choke him.

“Sorry,” he grits out and then the wet heat of Zayn’s mouth is back. He doesn’t take Harry as deep this time, but he lets Harry shallowly fuck his mouth, his cheeks hollowed obscenely. Harry grips the edge of the table with one hand, cupping Zayn’s face with the other and tracing his thumb over the sharp cut of his cheekbone.

Zayn’s lashes flutter as he struggles to keep his eyes open. He breathes harshly through his nose, fingertips digging into Harry’s hip hard enough to leave bruises and Harry can’t – he can’t –

“Zayn,” he chokes out, pushing his face back as he comes. Zayn manages to catch half his come in his mouth, the rest landing on cheek, even a bit caught in his lashes.

Dropping to his knees, Harry mutters apologies into a kiss, wiping away the come and feeding it to Zayn. He laps it up obediently enough and Harry can taste both of them on his tongue when he rewards Zayn with a deep kiss.

-

“I see what y’mean,” Zayn says some undiscernible amount of time later. They’re both slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall in a tangle of limbs and jeans. Harry’s heart has only just returned to its normal rhythm, skin feeling tacky as the sweat dries.

“Mmm?” he mumbles into the warmth of Zayn’s neck.

“The naked thing,” Zayn explains. “’S good.”

Harry huffs out a laugh and feels Zayn shudder a bit at the sensation. “Didn’t even get properly naked, did we?”

“Oh,” Zayn says.

“A grievous oversight, ‘m afraid. Guess we’ll have to try again.”

“ _Ohh_ ,” Zayn says. Then: “I’ve got a bed.”

“Was thinking maybe we could take a shower first.” He taps his finger against Zayn’s lower lip. “Some of us got a bit… dirty.”

Zayn flushes, but he doesn’t look away, even as he licks his lips.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Harry accuses.

Zayn grins.

**Author's Note:**

> right, so. i usually don't even write _sex scenes ___, so why i thought writing this was a good idea is beyond me. thank you for reading && feedback is very appreciated!


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